


Catching Up Quietly

by ilyena_sylph, Merfilly



Category: DCU (Comics)
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-06-26
Updated: 2015-04-25
Packaged: 2018-01-13 09:24:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1221094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ilyena_sylph/pseuds/ilyena_sylph, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merfilly/pseuds/Merfilly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just after Gorilla City/The Hunt For Oracle, Dick has Slade in his city... looking for peace</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"You cut your hair."

The voice made Nightwing turn, knowing who was there, and even how far away he'd be...which was barely eight feet this time.

"Hello to you too." The vigilante noted the familiar orange and blue rather than the blue and black tech gear his sometimes-opponent had been using for a short time, and couldn't resist the urge to comment on it. "You got out of my colors."

"Some things only you can pull off, Kid." There was a cocky smirk on the lips behind the mask, Nightwing just knew. "The hair?"

Behind the domino's lenses, Nightwing had to roll his eyes. "Got tired of a certain nuisance grabbing it like it was a leash," he shot off, managing to hide the smile that getting Deathstroke to laugh made him feel. There had been too many deaths in Slade's life, and every time the merc showed up, Nightwing half expected to learn the man had lost his anchor in reality.

"Amazing, you taking the point," Deathstroke said, letting his amusement ripple through his voice. "Still in this hellhole of a city, though."

"It's not Gotham," Nightwing pointed out.

"No, you had to go one worse," the merc retorted.

Nightwing shrugged his shoulders in a long, apparently casual shift, and smiled over at him. "Somebody needed to be keeping an eye on the place..." 

"The mafia did pretty good on their own," Deathstroke snorted. "You and your damn do-gooding."

"Yeah, well, you know what I think of the mafia, big guy," Nightwing replied, not letting Slade bait him into more of a response than that. "Yeah, yeah, I've heard that routine from you once or twice..." 

The mercenary just made a low, darkly amused noise at that. "Heading in yet?" he asked.

"Why, what are you going to do if I say yes?" Nightwing asked right back, one corner of his mouth curving up as he shifted his weight on the balls of his feet, considering the answer to that question. It was getting more towards early than late, only the truly desperate or bold were likely to be out now, and he'd already had a long night. //It'll only be longer if he stays around...// part of the back of his brain warned him.

"I'd say 'take you for a cup of coffee', but the work clothes stand out," he drawled, that bit of amusement in his tone. It didn't sound forced, but Nightwing definitely had the impression his old complication was distracting himself on purpose.

//What are you _up_ to, Slade?// Nightwing wondered, letting just a little of it through his body language. "Yours are even worse than mine for standing out... but you normally have clothing somewhere. Still leaves 'why?', but then, you always make me work for that answer." 

"Me? I just show you pieces of the world outside your box." The merc shrugged, just as casual as his voice sounded. "I'll trust you to make coffee."

Nightwing leaned back on one heel, tipping his head to study Slade for another moment, trying to think of if his long-time trouble had turned up implicated officially enough in anything that he ought to do something about it... and to the best of his memory, the answer was no. There was that thing with Blocky five or six months ago, but he was the last person that was going to give Slade hell over that. He'd just been glad to see the older man again, after... 

He gave in to the whimsical mood that Slade's presence could put him in when there wasn't a battlefield between them, and smiled. "Yeah, I think I can even get it strong enough for your tastes, these days," he agreed, turning to head towards his place. Besides, better to keep Slade focused on him than whatever else had drawn him back to the States -- if there was anything. He didn't put it past Slade to have shown up just for the hell of it. 

"See you there, Kid," the merc told him, before fading back into the shadows.

Nightwing shook his head at Slade's vanishing act, muttered, "You and B," just loud enough for the man's enhanced senses to hear it if he was listening, then sprang off the rooftop, turning an extra flip before he hit the next one just for the pleasure of it – and for that Slade was probably watching. 

`~`~`~`~`

Dick had the coffee brewed -- and, more importantly, Bab's cameras looped with just the right degree of sloppy to tell her that he had a date and he didn't want her watching -- before the mercenary arrived... in street clothes and through the front door for a change. There were signs that his normally crisp white hair was still letting go of a darker dye, as it seemed like a pale blond right now, and he had trimmed his beard back down to just the goatee. The leather jacket and jeans were both icing on the cake and cheating, as far as he was concerned. 

"Smells almost drinkable," Slade said by way of greeting, even as he slipped the jacket off to reveal the dark dress shirt underneath.

"Oh, thank you _so_ much," Dick replied as he stepped back away from the door and into the kitchen again. He poured for them both, and handed a full mug Slade's way as he looked at those little details that added up to Slade having actually wanted a disguise for something, and decided that he didn't want to know. "Nice to see you, too." 

Slade accepted his mug, inhaling the steam, then looking Dick over with that searching eye, tallying what he could see against what he remembered. He then took a sip, closing his eye, and savored the flavor of the coffee before speaking again. "It is good to see you."

That made one of Dick's brows arch as he walked over to sprawl across a third or so of the couch, waving his free hand at the rest of it. Slade was normally only polite when he thought he had to be, all of his teasing aside. His long time trouble came and took the other end of the couch, lounging as he was wont to do whenever he wasn't in motion. "Talked to Logan recently?"

"A little... he's doing his Hollywood thing again, you know." Dick shrugged over the coffee. "Means our schedules don't really go together all that well." 

"Hmm." Slade shrugged that off, but it told Dick at least part of what was bothering him Logan might have had a clue about. "You know, upholding the law, then breaking it to do the same seems like a vise of ethics, Kid."

"...Don't tell me _you're_ going to start this with me," Dick said, shifting on the couch to give him a long, annoyed look, though old memories about Pat tried to surface at the expression on his Slade's face.. "Amazing as it might sound, I do know what I'm doing." 

"I'm sure you do. Just don't expect me to respect any moral high horse you jump on when I'm around," Slade told him, his tone the kind of carefully neutral he hated hearing.

"....If you ever _had_ , Slade, I might worry about that," Dick replied, easy as he could make his voice sound when the barb had struck deeper than he wanted to admit. 

Slade's eye narrowed a little, then he drank some more of the coffee. There were lines of tension in his body that Dick could see, but the older man was keeping it out of his face.

"So, other than disagreeing with some of my current choices... What brings you to town this time?" 

"On my way somewhere, and it was convenient to route through your regional airport," Slade said casually. "As I hadn't seen you in a while, thought I'd stop in." 

"Yeah, sorry I missed you last time, I was a little tied up," Dick said, shoulders going a little tight despite his best efforts at hiding it. 

Slade cut him a sharp look, obviously trying to read the Titan leader. "Had wondered just where you were." His jaw went tight, despite himself, as he recalled that catastrophe. 

Dick paused, looking at the tightness in Slade's jaw and the sharpness of that look. It was nice to know Slade hadn't known what was going on -- he hadn't really thought it anyway, but the confirmation was nice. "Mm... nothing much, just somebody wanting an answer or two I didn't want them to have." 

Slade let a low growl sound in the back of his throat at that. "How strongly were they asking?" He'd known the hunt was for Oracle, and had wondered where the Kid had been, but if he'd gotten caught up in Blockbuster's one-track method of hunting...well, Deathstroke didn't like when someone hunted one of _his_ usual targets while he was on their payroll.

Dick gave Slade a mildly worried look at that low snarl, and thought a little about just how he wanted to answer this one. Slade had his... moments... of strangely protective, and this sounded like he might be about to walk into one of them. "Mm... I spent a couple of days home, but I've definitely been through worse. They didn't have as much time as they'd have needed."

Slade filed that away. He'd get an accounting later, because he was pretty certain Lady Vic preferred to remain breathing. An option he knew that she was well aware continued only as long as he chose to allow it, given her part in Adeline's death.

"You've been sticking closer to this dump than anywhere else, it seems."

"Yeah... things are kind of ... stressed in New York, I'm not sure we're not headed for another meltdown, and I don't have a clue what to do about it this time. You'd think the thing with Vic would've dealt with that for a while, but..." he shrugged. "And with both jobs going, it's getting harder and harder to get away for any length of time." 

"Everyone grows up, eventually," Slade said. "And away." There was a flash of emotion in his voice, just a moment, but then he was drinking his coffee calmly again.

"Seems to be the way of the world," Dick agreed, his attention caught by the flare of heat in Slade's voice. //And away... You haven't been with Pat in ages, and you and Wintergreen were fine last I heard... what happened, Slade?// 

Now he knew why Slade had asked if he was talking to Gar. If anyone would know what was going on with Slade's personal life, it was definitely Gar Logan. Of all the times for him _not_ to be... "Except for how sometimes you can't leave even when you try..." 

_That_ cut through Slade's shields long enough for Dick to see the pain beneath, before Slade could shove it down and refocus strictly on the Kid, not his own issues. "You kids fall apart regularly. I feel I can change my calendar to it." More pain creeping at the back of his voice, Dick noted, as memories of Joey at loose ends because the Titans were split surfaced.

//Now I _know_ something's wrong,// Dick thought, tension spiking through him. Slade, resist that straight a line to hit him on his issues with and about Bruce? There was something seriously wrong with Slade's world. "I'd argue, but I really don't feel like fighting with you." 

"You'd lose anyway, Kid." He gave his patented smirk, leaning back against the couch a little more. "Like always."

"I do _not_ always lose with you, Slade," Dick retorted, checking the cup in his hand before he crossed his arms over his chest. 

Slade just snorted for an answer to that. He'd gotten what he wanted most of the times he 'lost' to the Kid or the Titans.

Dick put the cup down, shifting his weight, and tried to figure out just exactly how to go about getting in under those shields of Slade's to find out what was going on. This was almost as blatant a 'there is something wrong' as Slade's showing up after Joe had been, and he didn't want to go through having to have another fistfight before either of them could do anything to deal with the grief. Whatever was going on, he needed to know, because things tended to go very, very badly when Slade was hurting and didn't have any way to let it out. He wasn't about to throw away the fact that Slade had actually shown up, instead of taking off. Why _him_ and not Gar, he wasn't entirely sure... "Alright, alright, normally you get what you wanted, too." 

Slade nodded. "Good of you to recognize it, Kid." He finished his own cup, and set it down on the table. "Talk to Harper lately?" he asked, managing not to growl the name, but fishing for any news of Rose.

"Yeah." It didn't take him long to realize what Slade was really asking, and he smiled over. "Not subtle, big guy. Rose sounds like she's doing alright with her foster family, settling into 'normal' pretty decently. I mean, much as she can." 

"It was best for her," Slade said, firmly, with the conviction of a man that had argued the scenario out in his own head... and aloud, more than once.

"You'd know better than I would," Dick wasn't about to argue child raising with Slade, either. He didn't have anything resembling good advice on it, after all. "Like I said, it sounds like she's doing well, from what I've heard." He paused, then shifted subject just a little, but with what Roy had said... "How's Wintergreen? I haven't heard from him for a while." 

Slade's eye darkened and the tension ran through him in a single hard clench before he could wrestle it under control. "Working on his book," Slade said, not fully aware his voice was the more flat 'working' voice than usual for a chat with the Kid.

Dick took a long, slow breath as Slade's powerful body coiled into tension and was fought back under his will again. Then Slade spoke, and it was the flat, almost perfectly accentless voice he was more used to hearing from under the blue and orange than the casual tones they'd been exchanging. Uninflected and carefully precise... Something was badly wrong with Wintergreen, and if the older -- //no, not just older. Old. ..oh, god, Slade.// He was glad he'd already put the cup down, it made it much easier to shift over into the middle of the couch, where Slade could reach him easily if he wanted. "Yeah? He having any luck with that?" 

Slade eased back a little from the control to flick his fingers through the short cropped black hair that was in reach now. "That depends on the mood of the week. When he's not cursing me for his words reminding him of perfectly legitimate escapes from danger, he's prodding my memory because he didn't write enough detail." The tension was there, but he managed to sound as much at ease as he could, thinking of all the problems of old age catching up with the only person alive who had known him before the experiment.

Dick tipped his head into the touch, the stroke of that broad, strong hand through his hair, and pulled one knee up on the couch so that he could turn sideways more, look up the inches of height Slade had on him into his eye. "From some of what I heard over the years, he's got plenty of reason to swear at you, Slade..." 

"I still stand by the fact he should have heard the copter blades." That he hadn't, Dick could see, bothered Slade, like it was a sign of something he should have seen.

"Copter blades?" Dick questioned, curious. "Do I even want to know what you were doing?" 

Slade's eye darkened again, and he stilled for a minute. When he started petting again, the touch was more firm with pressure, moving down toward Dick's neck, above his shirt collar. "Keeping us alive."

"...yeah, alright, I definitely don't," Dick said, slowly shifting to push into the hand sliding down his hair towards his neck. 

Slade made a low noise, something of just relaxing back from a tense state he didn't want to be in, but couldn't quite escape. His hand started massaging at the neck muscles, kneading lightly.

"Oh... god that feels good," Dick said, pressing into the strong, sure touch of Slade's hand. He wasn't entirely sure he hadn't pulled something in there during one of his fights, but it hadn't hurt nearly bad enough to be a distraction. 

"Damn, Kid, don't you ever get a professional work down?" Slade demanded softly, feeling that cording. 

"...when would I find the _time_ , Slade? And someone that wouldn't either ask, or talk?" 

"Like you don't have enough in the community who wouldn't kill to lay hands on you?" Slade joked, but he shifted to encourage Dick to move so he could work it better.

Dick swatted at his shoulder, carelessly halfhearted flick that he didn't care about connecting, even as he shifted to let Slade get at his shoulder more. "You know, if you're offering, there are more comfortable spots..." 

"I'm sure there are," Slade replied, voice dropping as he spoke. 

Slade's voice dropped into that low, smoke-tinted drawl that more than a few people would agree with him was just plain dangerous to the libido, and Dick felt it run straight down through his veins. This was _always_ a bad idea, but not bad enough at the moment that he was going to change his mind. Not with Slade obviously -- to him, at least -- hurting, and here. He bit at the inside of his upper lip to keep from licking at it, and looked up at Slade. "C'mon?" he asked, shifting to slide to his feet -- _if_ Slade let go. 

The older man did, rising smoothly to his feet, and gesturing for Dick to lead the way. He never minded the view from behind the Titan, after all.

`~`~`~`~`

Slade entered the bedroom right behind Dick, already reaching up to undo the buttons at the neck of his shirt so he could pull it off. He kept his eyes on the young man, letting all his troubles fade from his mind in anticipation of the night's events.

Dick could feel Slade's eyes on his back and turned, looking over his shoulder from where he was standing next to the bed. "Serious about that offer?" he asked, smiling just a little, watching him open the shirt. 

"Oh, I intend to work you over completely," Slade rumbled at him. "Oil?" he asked, stripping the shirt fully off, revealing his broad chest and the faint lacing of scars received before the healing factor.

Slade knew good and well what that voice did to him, and Dick only half hid the shiver that ran up his spine before he leaned over the bed to fish in the drawer for a bottle he hadn't had reason to use in a while, then stripped out of the T-shirt and the jeans and shorts, letting them fall to the floor before he tossed the sheets back off the bed and sprawled out over it, face down. 

Slade took his shoes off and then stripped to his own briefs, for ease of motion... and the fact that the massage was not going to be the end of his touching the beautiful young man in front of him. He climbed up on the bed, settling on his knees just over the hips of the Titan leader. He frowned, seeing new, vivid scars he did not remember. 

"Some livid markings," he said, voice steadily even, though he knew the difference between battle scars and deliberately, carefully inflicted wounds at a glance. He took the bottle of oil and poured a very small amount in his hands, working it between his palms to warm it before he began.

"Just the hazards of the occupation, Slade," Dick said, twisting enough to look over his shoulder at his long time problem and sometimes teacher, "you know that." 

With Slade already on edge, he wasn't going to volunteer that he'd gotten those marks from the same incident that had kept him tied up during the hunt. He wasn't going to lie to him, either... but Slade might not push. 

"Lay flat, and be still... for now," Slade said firmly, deciding to drop it. He'd do his own research, later, to see if he had a legitimate target to go after for this. He then pressed his hands against the tops of Dick's shoulders, working slowly to ease the muscles down from their rigidity.

"Still, me?" Dick asked playfully, shifting to cross hands under his forehead and stretch out a little more. 

"If you want to feel everything I can do to you, you will be," Slade said, bending over low enough to speak the words right next to Dick's ear.

Dick let his breath shudder -- but only his breath -- at Slade's shift and the low, smoke-rough voice against his ear, heat of his body close against his back, and firmly shut his mouth. 

Slade straightened back to a casual crouch, and then took the next hour at a leisurely pace, just massaging, deep in the muscles, and soothing the young man's body, from his shoulders down to his hips, all along the legs and the soles of the feet, and then coming back to the neck for detailed work there. He was quiet, taking his time, wanting the Kid fully relaxed.

He really should have known that Slade would be as good at this as he was at everything else, and the pure pleasure of the strong -- lethal, and he knew it -- hands on his back, pressing and stroking the tension out of his muscles, working on the strain in his neck, was so good. He let himself relax into nothing but this, touch and stroke and slide, drifting on it until Slade's weight shifted over him.

Slade shifted from over him to lounge at his side, once he was certain he had done the best he could for the young man that had moved in under his skin back when he still thought the Titans were just a part of a personal problem.

"Better?" he purred.

"God, yes," Dick answered, not moving from his sprawled out position at all yet, his voice low and content. "Are you just good at everything you pick up? I haven't felt this good in..." He tried to think of the last time he'd felt this bonelessly relaxed, muscles almost humming with the calm, and couldn't. 

"I had a good teacher," Slade said, quietly, savoring the memory of those lessons against the pain of knowing his friend was dying. As he did, he started running a hand down along the muscled, scarred physique of his sometimes foe, sometimes ally, letting his fingers press at certain nerves with intent to arouse Dick's sensuality now.

Dick shuddered at the run of Slade's hand down his side, strong, broad fingers touching him in exactly the right ways... So easy for the long strokes of the massage to turn into far more with such a simple shift and that was exactly what he wanted, needed, right now. "Mmm... yeah. Do I get to move, yet?" 

"If I told you 'no', it would be torture, wouldn't it?" Slade asked him, amused by the question. "Yes, move."

"You know it would. Didn't seem to stop you a little bit ago..." 

"That was for your own good," Slade said with a snort, running a hand along the flank closest to him. "Not moving during _this_ , on the other hand... might be worth making you do, some day."

He shuddered with the low promise -- and at the idea of that, of not being able to move, help, plead and push for more -- Slade's name falling from his lips in a low, quiet breath he wasn't going to admit was a moan. 

Slade smiled at that, before he moved closer, kissing Dick at the nape of his neck, the lightest of presses of lips to skin.

That just wasn't _fair_ , and Dick pressed up into the kiss, sliding one hand out from under his forehead to stroke up Slade's arm blindly, fingers tracing the line of his collarbones out to the point of his other shoulder. His touch elicited a low noise of appreciation, before Slade leaned back enough to give Dick space to turn over.

He did, rolling onto his back and sprawling out again, switching which hand was on Slade's skin as he did, looking up for the way Slade's eye heated at the move -- and that slid heat down his own veins, long slow pulse of hunger and desire. 

"So damned pretty," Slade told him, the words a long-familiar tease, but the tone full of deliberate praise.

"You..." Dick growled, low in his throat, trying to muster more irritation than he really felt. Slade knew damn well that he hated being called pretty, but the purr and the praise made him swallow -- and use the hand on Slade's shoulder to pull himself up and kiss him as if hoping it would silence him. It wasn't likely to work for more than a minute, but at least it'd be a minute.

The older man took that kiss, and claimed it for his own, his tongue twining against Dick's, tasting him, even as he shifted so he was more in Dick's space, one hand reaching out, sliding from shoulder to hip with a slow glide over all the muscles between.

All of Slade's weight close against him, now, pressed all along his side, hard, insistent slide of his tongue in his mouth so good that it would steal his breath if he let it, and he pressed into the slide of that strong, callused hand over his side, his hip. Once it reached his hip, the hand closed, holding Dick possessively, deepening the kiss at the same time. 

Dick purred, low and quiet, at that strong, firm hold around his hip, moving to wrap his hand up into almost-blond hair, opening his mouth to the kiss even more willingly, shifting his other hand up off the bed to stroke down Slade's arm from shoulder to elbow, then down onto his skin.

Slade moaned into the kiss at the touch, but drew back enough to begin kissing along his throat and jaw, working toward Dick's ear. Dick let his shoulders drop back towards the bed when Slade started in on his throat, hand still in his hair and on his shoulder, turning his jaw to offer more of his throat to the intent presses of his mouth. 

Slade wouldn't mark where it couldn't be hidden, but he did press his teeth to the offered throat briefly, before licking at the strong pulse he could feel there. He moved up, his tongue working at the spot just behind Dick's earlobe, before he sucked at the ear itself, nipping lightly.

The press of Slade's teeth that was just this side of strong enough to bruise made Dick shudder a little -- nothing compared to the way Slade's body pressed against his, and the flare of pleasure and heat from that nip did -- and he ran the hand still on Slade's shoulder over the heavy cords of muscle there, trying to press closer to him again. 

The larger man shifted in the next moment, rising up over his lover, supporting himself with one arm, as he pressed along the full length of Dick's body, one thigh slipping between the younger man's legs. "You feel good under me, Kid." He went back to kissing the Kid's ear, running his hand from hip to waist in a slow pet.

That low, soft rumble of Slade's voice against his ear combined with all of his weight shifting to press against him as perfectly as this always was, the particularly hard muscle of a lover that could bench press a Mack truck if he needed to against his thigh and his abs and pressed along his side drove the smart-assed comment out of his mind just long enough for what came out of his mouth to be "Slade..." on a sigh of a breath. He half wanted to curse at himself for giving that much away this early, but... god, he felt good. 

"Yeah, Grayson..." Slade smirked just a little over him, before pressing in, and moving slow, a rhythmic rocking of his body against Dick's while he worked his way back along Dick's jaw to his mouth. Dick shifted, pressing his jaw into the kisses and nips along his jaw, catching the pace of his lover's body after the first shift and matching him move for move... then bit at his lip for the smirk the second their lips touched enough, tongue following his teeth in the next moment. 

That made Slade growl, softly, before kissing him harder, demanding more of Dick in it than before. His broad hand came back to the younger man's hip, thumb caressing along the pelvic bone in long strokes.

Dick smiled into the kiss at the growl //yeah, Slade?// before he couldn't do anything but open his mouth for the hard pressure of Slade's lips and tongue, rub of the goatee against his chin a familiar sensation that still made him hold on a little more. He shifted, trying to follow the strong, caressing stroke of Slade's thumb over nerves that never failed to make him shiver a little and jump -- and Slade's thigh pressed tighter in against his groin at the way his move had spread his thighs open wider. 

Slade broke the kiss and shifted down a little after the way Dick moved against his leg, taking the pressure away. He continued down, bites and kisses finding the sensitive spots of Dick's shoulders and collarbone. Now his kisses were more fierce, leaving bruises and imprints as he went.

Dick didn't stop his hands his hands from tightening at Slade's neck and shoulder when he moved away, but he didn't let the whine he wanted to make out of his lips -- he wasn't that easy to rattle, and this was as much a game as anything else between them. Slade's mouth was intent across his throat, down low enough that he could leave marks and .. oh, god, he was, perfect sharp pressure of his teeth and his tongue and lips. //Going to be bruised for days,// flicked through his head, and that just made his hands slide over Slade's shoulders and down over his ribs as low as he could reach, fingers over pressure points.

Slade made a rumbling noise of pleasure, pushing into the touches, but his mouth continued the southward journey. Each nipple was found, licked, nipped at and flicked by Slade's merciless tongue before he felt he had tormented Dick enough that way. Dick let his eyes fall shut and just arched into his mouth, every lick and kiss and nip sending heat zinging down through his nerves, his veins, hands clenching on Slade's back at one point before he stroked them down over his shoulders, biceps -- god, he always forgot how _big_ a man Slade was when he was gone a while -- stretching his hands open.

The teasing, licking trail of Slade's tongue limned out the edges of abs drawn tight near the ribs, then back in again, over the center line. He continued mapping out Dick's abs by his tongue and lips, loving the way it made Dick move, and the small sounds that did escape him. Moments like this, Slade always felt too far away even though he could feel the heat off his body against his abs, over all of his leg. He couldn't get close enough, and with Slade's mouth making him shudder and twist into his touch he couldn't focus -- without turning more of his attention away from his lover's touch than he wanted to -- enough to do more than hold on to him, sliding his hands over his back and his shoulders, up into his close-cropped hair to stroke.

The kisses moved to the hollow of one hip, tongue flickering along sensitized skin there, drumming at the nerve cluster with teasing, maddening licks before Slade sucked a small mark into existence right over the sharp jut of the hipbone. Dick looked down at that strong, sudden suction where the maddening flicker of his tongue had been, at the lividness of the bruise against the pale skin of his hip, and shuddered, hand sliding up through pale hair again. "In a mood, much?" 

Slade paused in his pursuit of driving the Titan crazy, and looked up. "Maybe I am. Going to complain, or just enjoy it, Kid?"

Dick shuddered at the look on Slade's face, all of that intent hunger and focus gone to wickedly seductive levels, and made his words come out steady. "Did I sound like I was complaining?" 

"You never know how I might take it, Kid," Slade teased him, before turning his mouth back to better things, which at the moment was dropping a light mouth around the very tip of Dick's cock with no warning.

"Take -- oh, god -- it as a request, alright?" 

Slade chuckled softly before sliding his mouth further down Dick's length, taking in the scent and taste all over again. Dick let his hips shift into the wet heat wrapping around him, just a little. Not nearly as much as he wanted to, but enough to be a test of just how pushy Slade was feeling, as he dropped his hand out of Slade's hair and back down to his shoulder again. Slade shifted his own weight, settling so that he could rest one arm across Dick's body to hold him down, not letting it interfere with the slow re-acquaintance with Dick he wanted.

Slade's hand was against the outside of his hip, weight of his wrist against the arch of bone, pressure of his forearm across his lower abs just enough to be warning and reassurance at once. Every long, slow slide of Slade's mouth on his so-sensitive skin was more proof that yes, he was in a mood -- and oh, they were both going to enjoy the results of it. 

With his weight situated more to his hips and legs, Slade was able to use the pinning arms' elbow for a brace, and free his other hand for more exploration. While he worked the head and shaft to a midway point with his mouth, Slade began stroking along the Titan's sac and base of this cock with that hand, contrasting the wet heat of his mouth against that firm touch.

Dick heard the low whimper he made at the strong slow slide of Slade's hand against his balls and arched against the restraining arm over his hips, sliding his hands down to wrap around his arms again, breath coming too fast, but god. Slade had always known how to touch him, but this was so good. 

The hand came away for a moment to find the bottle of oil from earlier, working the flip cap open and managing to not spill it. When the cap was snapped shut again, Slade rubbed the oil around on his fingers and palm, before bringing his touch back to his lover. The palm of his slick hand rested along the sac, thumb rubbing along the base, but now he could tease at Dick's opening, just a single finger for now, as he continued teasing the cock with his mouth.

Slade's big, broad hand against his sac and the pressure of his thumb against the base of his cock were enough to make his breath shake, and that teasing pressure against his entrance made him try to arch down against it. God, when Slade felt like teasing... That hot, wet suction still around his tip and partially around his length was driving him more than crazy.

The teasing, pressing finger pushed in past the tight resistance as Slade's mouth slid down the shaft more, almost taking Dick completely in. He continued to press, moving his finger little by little to stretch his lover, but he came back up the cock after a moment to run his tongue along the tip again.

That broad, strong slick finger slid into him as Slade's mouth slid almost all the way down him -- it was enough to make him shake despite his attempted control, another noise in his throat as Slade pulled away, louder noise from the slow pressure of his tongue on the head of his cock... There were moments it seemed like Slade had always known exactly how to push him, make him let go of all of his control. 

The older man was going slow now, tongue working the length and ridge and tip while his finger made promises of Slade's intent, eventually being joined by a second one to help in those promises. He was in control of himself, but hellbent on making the Titan lose his own before taking full advantage of him.

Caught between Slade's mouth around him, the blunt, steady press of Slade's fingers inside him, stroking and promising so much, all the _focus_ in the way his lover touched, stroked, used his mouth, changed the weight of his arm over his hips to keep him still every time he tried to move... Dick heard the noise he made far too late to choke it back. 

Slade made one in turn, a pleased rumble that hinted at a desire to make Dick even more wordlessly incoherent before he was through. His fingers pressed in as deeply as he could from that angle, in time with a flicking of his tongue along the slit at the tip of Dick's cock.

Deep purr of Slade's voice around him, the slide of his fingers deeper... and that flick of his tongue -- Dick shuddered again, hands clinging, and let the whimper he wanted to make fall from his lips this time, his hips rocking just a little at the touches. Slade's mouth slipped away from Dick's length and he smiled lazily up at the inevitable protest, but his fingers remained, stretching Dick.

"Slade..." he hadn't meant to throw quite that much of a whine into his voice as he did, but Slade had had him so close.

"Not yet," was what Slade said, before he withdraw his fingers, leaving Dick feeling empty, achingly hard, and so beautiful to the older man. He shifted away long enough to remove his briefs, his own cock obviously affected by the sight and sound and scent of desire between them.

He might sometimes forget the size Slade had on him, but how damned gorgeous he was he _never_ forgot, and seeing him like that, all wide, strong body and hard length and hunger on his face -- Dick shook as much from that as from the sudden empty ache, and his throat went dry enough that he had to swallow, wet his lips... and dropped his hands away, wrists turned up against the bed a couple of feet from either hip, palms open. 

"Beautiful, Dick... so damned gorgeous when you want and show it like that," Slade rumbled at him. He then moved back toward his lover, spreading Dick's legs apart enough to be between them, encouraging those legs to go up around his waist as he made it clear he wanted Dick fully now, wanted to feel that tightness around him, by working the remnants of the oil on his hand into his own cock.

"Pot, kettle..." Dick told him -- and meant it -- wrapping his legs to settle his heels against backs of Slade's thighs, body arching as he moved to press against Slade's tip, more than willing to go with exactly what was on Slade's mind. 

The older man read the tension of Dick's muscles, and moved with him, sliding inside him and then waiting for Dick to adjust fully. He leaned in over Dick, arms on either side of his lover, and gave a short flex of his hips to see the reaction on the younger man's face.

Dick's head tipped back, gasp for breath opening his lips as all of that hot, hard length slid into him so perfectly... then Slade moved in him, quick flex of pressure and heat and his eyes snapped back open, hands tightening where they lay against the bed. 

"You feel damn good around me, Kid," Slade rumbled, voice low and husky. He started a slow rhythm, moving in and out, leaning in against Dick so that Dick felt his cock trapped along Slade's abs. Slade's voice, the solid, steady pressure of his body, the feel of muscle working against his body and the hot slide of his length thick and so deep inside him... Dick's hands clenched again, before he changed how his body braced against Slade's to move with him, picking up his pace -- and brought his hands up off the bed to wrap his arms up under his shoulders, holding on. Slade hadn't gone after either of his wrists even with the blatant invitation, the hell he was going to deny himself the feel of Slade's skin and muscle under his hands, against his arms, all the shifts and moves of the solid body over his... 

Slade's eye was intent on his face, moving slow and sure with his lover. There was peace there, for this affair at least, that Dick could read. He sensed, possibly because of his long association with Slade, that this was the kind of grounding in reality the older man needed.

Peace. Peace in Slade's face -- one of the rarest expressions he ever saw, and that he'd been maybe half a minute from losing his mind at his lover's teasing didn't matter at all compared to what it was like to see and feel Slade relaxing. Or in comparison to the feel of this kind of slow and steady loving that always broke him so wide open before they had finished. There were ways this got to him more than almost anything else his most dangerous ally and opponent and lover could do, and Slade knew it. It seemed like he always had. 

The older man kissed him then, gentle and long, letting their bodies together take him closer to the edge, closer to full relaxation, stretching this out for both of them. 

When he knew they were both so close, he took another, more urgent kiss from his lover before speaking. Gentle. So gentle... god. It never failed to shake him up when Slade was this gentle, and it was almost a relief when the kiss went deeper, stronger.

"Kid..." Slade said, voice gone deep with the building passion burning in him. "I want you to fly for me. Now, Kid..."

Slade had him wound so tight, shaking with hunger and need, that it only took the low order to break him, teeth sinking into his lip as as he lost his breath and all of his control, white heat slashing down his veins. Without playing any further games of control or holding back, Slade followed him over the edge. He buried himself deep in the Titan's body and let go, shuddering.

Slade was so perfectly deep and the feel of his body shaking just drove Dick to shaking longer, aftermath dragging shudders out of his nerves until Slade was still over him, and then it felt like he might be able to breathe again. The older man looked at his lover, then kissed him once more, before he shifted enough to pull out. However, he remained above his lover, uncaring about the mess between them, just wanting to have a few moments more of the peace.

Dick growled at him for moving -- he always did try and pull away too damned quickly -- and tightened his arms around Slade's back, holding on until he was sure his lover wasn't going to try and move more than that. 

"Possessive's my job, Kid," Slade whispered in his ear, tone amused. "Not planning on going anywhere, unless you kick me out before your shift."

Dick laughed quietly at the first words -- it was true. Slade was normally the possessive one, even if they both knew better than to believe it extended farther than this -- and then flashed a smile up at him. "Nah... like you right where you are." 

"For now..." Slade murmured, but he settled, most of his weight pinning Dick to the bed in content laziness.


	2. Beautiful Wakings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The next morning

Slade woke slowly, having drowsed after they had separated enough to clean up, the Kid slept in his arms with that body of his pressed tight enough to make a saint fall off the heavenly wagon.

Slade was no saint. He woke well-aware of that body, the taut muscles slack in true rest, and was of half a mind to take up the offer made just by how Dick had pressed close the entire time they'd slept.

However, while he wasn't a saint, he was a businessman, in a business that made Dick wince under both his hats of sanctimony. This had gotten more tangled up than Slade ought to have ever allowed it to get.

He lingered a few moments more on the scent, feel, and sound of his lover, his ally, his student... and his enemy. Then, with both grace and speed, careful to not disturb the Kid's needed rest, Slade left, with just the memory to linger as his side of the bed cooled. It was for the better of the both of them, Slade reminded his mercenary self, leaving out of town as fast as could be arranged. The Kid should thank him for that mercy.


	3. Shots Not Taken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Slade holds grudges, but sometimes his heart leads.

He still had a few scores to settle.

Savage. Grodd. Nguyen. The Princess. Harper.

He had forever, damn Nguyen to hell and back again. He could afford to wait, take his targets as they came to him.

So why was he hesitating? He tracked the federal agent, had him lined up and perfectly framed.

"Damn it, Wilson," he muttered to himself. He swapped the Barrett out for his camera, snapped a quick one, and then left the A.O.

`~`~`~`~`

Dick's phone buzzed with a text, and he stepped away from the laughing cops around the cooler.

A pic of Roy, coming from Slade's phone made Dick's blood run cold. The words below it helped him breathe again.

_You're almost more trouble than I like._

Dick swore under his breath, then calmed for the rest of his shift. He really needed to find a way to mend that breach, even if he had no idea how.


	4. Loggerheads

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They have complications.

He'd known good and well that the contract was going to cut close to other ties he had. He caught one glimpse of the blue and black, but with his faster ability to process data, he knew there was a look of disappointment.

He had never promised the Kid he'd go straight. He had work, and there were parts of this that had cut too close to his own issues, with a kid at risk. Right now, he just had to cut it off, keep moving, and let that bridge burn, if that's what sticking to his own code meant.

+++++

It had been three weeks since the job, and damn near six since Slade had actually dropped in on the Kid. It wasn't that he was missing Dick at all, or that he hated the gulf.

But when the Kid came through the window of his safe house in New York, he let his eye linger, noticing the body language that still screamed disappointment.

Slade didn't bring that job up, and Dick didn't ask, but damned if they didn't find their way back to the bedroom anyway.

When he was all but certain the Kid was passed out, Slade tried to let it slide off his back, knowing Dick was still upset, no matter how good they were in the sack. But the tension wouldn't leave, and he couldn't very well walk out of his own place.

"Sleep," Dick murmured, curling in closer. "You're you, I'm me, and we just… are."

Slade chuckled, tucking his head over Dick's. "Yeah, Kid. That we are."


	5. Rationalization

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce and Dick have a confrontation.

"Do you even care?"

Dick gritted his teeth, made worse when he looked and saw it was still the Bat, not Bruce, demanding and prying at his private life.

"We're not exactly legal in what we do," he snapped.

"We don't kill."

Dick didn't put his fist through anything, but he was tempted. "If you've been paying attention, he doesn't, not in the States. Even overseas, where what he does is usually sanctioned by the law of the country he's in, his kill count is drastically lower than the past."

"Rationalizing."

"Dammit, Bruce, stop this! How many times have you reached out to Two-Face, the man that nearly killed every single one of us Robins? How many times have you failed to make the Joker go away, the very one that maimed Babs and killed Jason?! How often have you crawled into bed with Talia al Ghul, when she helps run the single most powerful network of assassins?"

His jaw was going to hurt later from clenching it so tight as Bruce — no, the damned Bat — glared back at him.

"I'd hoped you wouldn't make my mistakes." With that, he turned to go change… and Dick left, taking his bike to go home.


End file.
